


Look at My Ass, Look at My Thighs. I'm Catnip to the Guys (DOMINICK "SONNY" CARISI JR.)

by RockWithItWriting



Category: Law & Order: SVU, Law & Order: Special Victims Unit RPF
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-26 02:11:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7556089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RockWithItWriting/pseuds/RockWithItWriting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>requested by anonymous: I hope you’re having a FANTASTIC day! I seriously check your blog every day omg. Could I pls request a (jealous) Sonny x reader where they’re dating & she has to go undercover and gets all dolled up/sexy & in a tight dress and pumps and he’s all hot&bothered in surveillance??? And wicked jealous when she has to flirt w their suspect who gets handsy with her and the rest of the squad teases Sonny abt being jealous?? (bonus if u insert some jealous Sonny sexytime after in there) love you!!!!</p><p>i changed the prompt a little bit and honestly i’m shitting myself @ the title why am i like this also i lowkey feel like sonny is v ooc -e</p><p>word count: 2185</p><p>warnings: nsfw content, female reader, cursing, mentions of rape</p>
            </blockquote>





	Look at My Ass, Look at My Thighs. I'm Catnip to the Guys (DOMINICK "SONNY" CARISI JR.)

He’s so mad, sitting in the back of a dusty delivery van. The anger is pulsing through his veins. Blinding him. Deafening him. All he can think about is you.

Your eyes. Your hair. Your body. You in that dress, those heels, that club. You are the only thing on Sonny Carisi’s mind and he can’t breathe. He can’t breathe because he can hear everything you’re saying to the rapist. And you’re laying it on thick.

_Hey, handsome._

_No, let me buy you a drink._

_Please, it’s the least I could do for a cutie like you!_

And he’s mad at himself, too. He shouldn’t feel this way. You aren’t his. You aren’t anybody’s. You belong to you, but he wants you.

Sonny wants you so badly.

And Mike can tell. Mike can tell and Mike is making fun of him for it. Mike can tell because Sonny’s anger doesn’t look like anger at all. It’s manifesting as a bright flush on his neck and a tightness in his jeans and, fuck, his sergeant is right there.

Sonny is having a bad night.

He’s having a night that goes from bad to worse as he watches the scumbag slip an arm around you and cup a breast, leaving everyone shocked. But you play it off. You have to. You bat his hand away and smile from under your lashes and Sonny wants to leave.

He wants his boner to settle down, too.

But he has a job to do. And so do you. He takes a second to close his eyes and remember that, but then he’s back to watching the screens with Mike, making sure you’re safe and okay. And fuck, he’s so jealous. Sonny wishes you had gotten dolled up for him, called him handsome, kissed his cheek when he bought you a drink.

But you were just partners.

And this was just a job.

And he was just your coworker.

And Sonny Carisi was never anyone’s first choice. Not on the squad, not in his love life. Never had he been a first choice in someone’s eyes if that person wasn’t his mother.

Suddenly, you’re humming in his ear- through the earpiece of course- and he can’t place the bouncing tune. But Mike can.

Sonny watches as Mike nearly doubles over, coughing to try and catch his breath, as you lead the rapist to a back room on the screen. Sonny covers his mic.

“What’s so funny?”

And Mike looks up, flushed, “Can’t you hear what she’s humming?” And yes, he can, but Sonny can’t snark to a superior. He was raised better than that.

“Yes, sir. I’m just not sure what she’s humming.”

“Bend and Snap, from the Legally Blonde musical. I was in a production of it in college. I played a delivery man.” Sonny just nods, and looks back to the screen.

But Mike, for some reason, begins to sing along with your humming.

_Look at my ass_

_Look at my thighs_

_I’m catnip to the guys_

_They chase my tail_

_They drool and pant_

_Wanna touch this but they can’t_

Sonny nearly dies when you pass Fin and he sees your ass and thighs in the dress, finally understanding what Mike was singing about. His throat closes and shit, he nearly loses it when the man’s hand rounds to cup your ass and you look over your shoulder to giggle and toss your hair at him.

The jealousy is a warm pit in his stomach, his arousal cold in his pelvis. He feels sick looking at you and being turned on, but he knows he’ll get over it once he’s given the cue to run after the man.

He has a job to do. Sonny keeps telling himself that and as you cross over into the private rooms of the club, Olivia acting as the security in the corner of the room that the rapist nods to, and he finally calms down.

He can be jealous later.

He can beg Mike not to tell you how he reacted to your body later.

He can get that song out of his head later.

Right now he needs to help you. And you’re kissing the man and his hand is crawling up your thighs. Sonny feels sick. You say no. You push him away.

He pulls a gun and Olivia calls for Sonny and Mike. Sonny finds his calm and his gun as he bursts through the service door, finding the man in his sights almost immediately. Mike skids to a stop behind him, gun also drawn.

Olivia is behind the man, from her spot, with her gun on him, too.

The man looks around, looks at you as you pull your gun, and he curses under his breath as his gun clatters to the ground. You make the arrest and nobody stops you. Sonny holsters his gun and wipes a hand down his face, ready for the day to be over.

But, of course, it can’t be. Sonny finds himself back at his desk, drinking a coffee half’d with a Monster, and he’s getting ready to interrogate. Why Mike had suggested him, he’d never know.

(Of course, he knows. It’s because of the way his jeans feel too loose in the crotch now.)

And he was going in alone. Challenging the alpha male with his own snark, his own wit. Sonny wonders why they didn’t send Mike in. He isn’t an alpha male but, well, he has to shake the next thought from his head.

Maybe they just didn’t want to do the work and Sonny was their go to man to pawn things off on. Nobody really likes him, anyways, not after they started seeing him as Amaro’s replacement. Sonny finishes the cocktail he created that is surely going to give him a heart attack before he passes the bar and stands, fixing his tie, ready to interrogate.

You’re standing behind the glass in your usual work attire. Your form is still burned into the back of his mind, though, and he completely ignores you as he steps into the interrogation room.

The man, Sonny barely remembered his name as Alex, looks up. “Shucks, where’s that pretty lil’ thing from the club?”

Sonny doesn’t answer, leaning against the door with his hands in his pockets. “You were easy to catch,” He says nonchalantly, “Easy to bait, easy to arrest. You’ll be easy at trial, too.” Sonny forces his face into a sickening grin, “Easy in prison, I bet.”

The man lunges for Sonny, but he’s shackled to the desk. Sonny strolls until he’s just out of Alex’s reach. He grins down at Alex and Sonny feels the sadistic urge to make the man hurt build up in him. But he shakes it off. He doesn’t need another reason for the squad to dislike him, nor does his character need to change because of a school boy crush on a coworker in sex crimes. He promised himself he would remain true.

Suddenly, looking down at Alex, Sonny thinks about asking Barba if he can work at the DA’s office if he passes the bar. But he just speaks again, “That get you, huh?” His voice is cold. He doesn’t recognize it.

He’s too tired and he shouldn’t be interrogating but he is. Sonny wishes you would pull him out, so he could go home, sleep. But you don’t and he keeps talking, “I could tell you all about what they’re gonna do to you in there. But that’s no fun. How ‘bout you tell me what you did to those girls, aeh?” Sonny finally takes a seat, templing his hands in front of him.

Alex grins and Sonny feels the anger burn cold in his gut. He’s not looking at Sonny- but behind him. At the glass where you’re on the other side watching. “I could tell you what I did to them- if I did anything. Or I could tell you what I was going to do to that pretty lil’ detective you sent in undercover to woo me.”

Sonny reaches forward and twists a hand in Alex’s shirt, “You shut your mouth,” He growls, “And just tell us what you fuckin’ did. We know anyway, you scumbag.”

Alex grins, like he knows he’s hit a weak point with Sonny. Sonny’s hands just twist the fabric closer to Alex’s neck as he realizes the same thing. He doesn’t back down, though, waiting for a confession.

“I was gonna shove my cock between her pretty lil’-” Sonny is sure he knows where the story is going, but the anger in his stomach overflows and suddenly his whole body is cold. He’s feeling jealous, angry, unsure. He’s feeling a lot of things, including his knuckles splitting as he cracks Alex across the face harshly.

He wants to keep going, but you’re dragging him out of the room while Alex laughs. Barba is there, and so is Mike. They both slip into the room but Sonny doesn’t see what’s happening because you push him into a closet and shut the door.

He rounds on you, “What do you think you’re doin’?” He spits, glaring at you with animosity and hurt in his eyes. He’s unable to place why he’s so angry but you place it in a second. You grab his tie and kiss him.

Sonny pushes back with just as much force, hands fisting in the material that covers your hips and he feels the slow burn of tears in the back of his throat. He pushes you back and groans into your mouth. “I’m sorry,” He mumbles, breaking away from you. For a minute Sonny just stares at you and then he dips to kiss your neck as you shake your head and hook a leg over his hip.

“Don’t be sorry, just take it out on me. I want you, Dominick.” You breathe, and his hips jump forward and he groans. He sucks a hickey in your neck and you  push him back by his shoulders. He hesitates but he can see your eyes dilating so he dips back down and captures your lips with his.

Sonny is frantic and you’re all he can think about as he slides a hand up your shirt, gasping for breath. He cups your breasts and you moan, grinding against him as you become just as desperate as him.

He rocks against you and suddenly your shirt is off. Sonny takes a second to breath, to calm down, but he can’t because you’re so beautiful to him. “I’ve been thinking about this forever,” He breathes, bending to kiss where your breasts met your bra. You sighed and he sucked a hickey, there, too.

He feels like he’s floating and burning up at the same time so he backs off, peeling his dress shirt off and his tie in one smooth motion. Sonny shivers when you drop to your knees and take your shirt off, kissing the smooth, firm expanse of his stomach.

He tosses his head back and starts praying because he’s sure that the rapture is coming when you unbuckle his pants and pull them down, groaning when you see how tight his dark black, skin tight boxers really are underneath the slacks.

Sonny really thinks he’s being raptured when you mouth him over the thin fabric. He wonders if he died in the raid and he’s being rewarded for being a good Catholic boy his whole life. But then you pull down his boxers and slide your mouth around him in barely a second and Sonny is alive.

“Shit,” The cursing must put the good Catholic boy thing on hold, but Sonny doesn’t care as he grasps the shelves behind you and tosses his head back. Your hands grasp his ass and he bites his lip before he can completely lose it. “Fuck, unless this is all you want to do then you better stop,” Sonny can barely gasp it out but he does.

And you stop.

And you stand.

But you don’t let him disrobe you anymore.

You watch his flushed face and giggle when the shelf shakes as his arms tremble as you grasp him in your hand. Sonny’s thinking that he’s blessed, he’s wondering what he’s done to deserve this. You pump him slowly and then his head drops to your shoulder.

“Uh uh, big boy,” You rasp, “Look at me. I want you to look at me. I want to see your face and hear you say I’m yours.” Sonny can barely pick up his head as his hips thrust forward. He almost comes at the tone in your voice.

“Shit,” He gasps, eyes locked onto yours, “What’re yah doin’ to me?” He’s tongue tied but your hand is so good against him and with three more slow, tight pumps he’s there.

His eyes close and his head falls back.

Your name replaces the nightly prayer he says.

His voice leaves him as you suck a dark purple hickey into the front of his neck.

“That’s right, you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” He cries, “Yours, only yours!”


End file.
